


Shenanigans and Sundries, a Tumblr fic collection

by estei



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/pseuds/estei
Summary: A home for my errant Pacific Rim scribbles.





	1. A Quiet Darkness - Becket cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> Written last February because all the Yancy/Knifehead posts were seriously bumming me out, and I needed some Becket cuddles.

Yancy is still awake when he hears the lock on the front door turn, the distinctive snick sound seems to echo in the stillness. He’s sitting in his bed, propped up by a mound of down pillows and legs warm under the quilt, the reading glasses he denies owning are low on his nose and his tablet in one hand. A late winter storm is kicking up a fuss outside the thick windowpanes, freezing rain tinkling against the glass. It’s just gone three am, and there are quiet footsteps on the carpet in the hallway, a shadow growing just beyond the open bedroom door.

Yancy isn’t worried, he knows who will cross the threshold. He knows every shape and sound his brother makes.

The light is low, too low for reading, a point Raleigh might make on a different day, but tonight, this morning, he just crosses the room in silence, hardly more than a shadow as he crawls up onto the bed. The cold clings to his sweater, to his flannel pants, to his hair, disheveled and mussed, and to the curve of his face, pale and solemn.

Yancy folds down the quilt and holds out his arm, murmuring little platitudes as Raleigh slumps against his side, cheek pressed to the curve of Yancy’s neck. He’s shivering, almost imperceptibly, and Yancy draws the blankets up around his shoulders, tucking the corners around him.

“Yance,” Raleigh says, raw and mournful, and Yancy moves his hand to card through the mess of blond hair, cradling the back of Raleigh’s skull, keeping him close, as though the younger man might contemplate moving.

“I know,” Yancy says. And he does. There’s a phantom pain that has been climbing up from his hip since the sun went down, fingers ghosting across his ribs when the clock rolled to midnight, to March 1. It’s the sixth March 1 of his new calendar, the sixth March 1 he should never have seen, by some accounts.

They don’t speak after that. There have never been words strong or wide enough to carry the meaning that simple touch conveyed so perfectly.

_I almost lost you._

And, more importantly,

_I’m still here._


	2. Meditation and traffic delays - Raleigh/Chuck + exasperated Herc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolute self indulgent fluff. Cuz why not.

Raleigh knows what Twitter is, the mechanics of it, and the space it occupies in the cultural landscape, but much like, oh, crocodile wrestling, he has no actual interest in participating in the social media sphere. He keeps a low profile in most things, but especially when it comes to the internet. Despite the overwhelming options on his fancy smartphone, he mostly uses it as it was originally intended - a telephone. 

Chuck, on the other hand, might actually be permanently attached to his mobile. Raleigh hasn’t tested this yet, for fear of losing life and limb, but the sleek device is never far from Chuck’s hand. He has profiles on multiple platforms, including the aforementioned Twitter, but Raleigh knows that he only follows academics and scientists, actors from Star Trek: TNG, and an account called “Emergency Kittens.” 

Chuck’s presence on the internet causes the occasional headache for the team unfortunate enough to be doing public relations for what remains of the PPDC, but otherwise seems harmless enough. In fact, it seems to have helped Chuck assimilate into his post-PPDC life, or that’s what Mako said when Herc complained too much. It was good enough for Herc, who was an easy target for those ‘Chuck doesn’t know how to adult’ conversations, but all Raleigh needed to know was that it made Chuck happy. The fact that he was getting mad at complete strangers, and not Raleigh, didn’t hurt either. And Chuck didn’t post much, or tweet, whatever it was called, he just seemed to enjoy scrolling through and ferreting out interesting articles and tidbits of information. 

Of course, this tranquility couldn’t last. 

Most afternoons, Raleigh closes the blinds in the living room, pushes all the furniture to the side, and turns on the meditation playlist Chuck made for him. He does a combination of meditation exercises and yoga practice, sometimes for up to two hours, depending on how he’s feeling. He loves it, how centered he can be again, how present in his own body, clear headed.  
Chuck tried to sit with Raleigh in the beginning, to share in his practice, but the whole meditation thing wasn’t for him, and he’d just end up creating a disturbance. He respects that this is important for Raleigh, that it helps him, so he does his part by making himself, and Max, scarce when the yoga mat comes out. Sometimes Chuck goes for a drive, or a walk, or runs errands. Sometimes he’s gone until the sun goes down. Raleigh doesn’t worry, he knows Chuck will be back. 

But one day, after a particularly long session, he turns his phone back on and finds text messages from Tendo and Mako, and three missed calls from Herc, and something in his gut clenches painfully, and the sense of peace he’d spent two hours cultivating crumbles into dust. His hands are almost shaking as he dials Herc, no bothering to check the messages. 

“Where have you been?” Herc demands, sounding harassed, and a little pissed off, but not scared, or worried. “Never mind that, just… just make him stop, yeah?” 

“What are you talking about?” Raleigh asks slowly, willing his heart to climb back down out of his throat, and trying not to snap at the older man for making him worry. 

“You haven’t seen it,” Herc says, and it’s obviously not a question. 

“Seen what?” Raleigh knows he isn’t quite keeping the exasperation out of his voice. “I’ve been meditating.” 

“Oh, right,” Herc clears his throat. “Well, it seems that Chuck’s stuck on the highway, some kind of traffic jam, and he’s taken to venting his frustrations on the Tweeter.” 

“Twitter,” Raleigh corrects, even though they both know that Herc is aware of the correct name. He likes to pretend to be out of touch, some kind of weird game he and Chuck seem to enjoy. 

“Right, well, it’s a mess, and the PR team is going to quit or start demanding stress leave, and I can’t deal with either option right now. He’s having a right time of it, won’t pick up my calls and someone needs to stop this madness.” 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Raleigh says, distracted as he picks up his tablet and hits the appropriate icon. Chuck uses it more often than he does, so it’s loaded with his favorite apps. “Or, um, maybe it is.” 

Chuck’s twitter feed has somehow ballooned from a dozen posts to over 100, though about half seem to be replies to other users, and a fair number of pictures of Max, tongue lolling out. 

“Ugh, Max is not supposed to be in the front seat.” Raleigh mutters as he scrolls through Chuck’s various imprecations against his fellow drivers, and musings on the appropriate choice of condiments at the breakfast table. 

“Focus, Becket,” Herc snaps. “As we speak more of these things are popping up, not to mention he seems to be in some kind of spat with a bloke, hey, Rhonda, who’d you say that was? Right, yeah, Kanye West, Raleigh. Do you know who that is? Chuck’s just called him a proper… well, you can read.” 

Raleigh stared at the small screen in mounting horror, then, remembering his earlier practice, counts out ten slow, deep breaths. He closed out of the Twitter screen and opened a new one. 

“Well, according to the traffic updates the accident on the 407 is clearing up now, so he should be moving again shortly.” Raleigh says. “I’ll have him call you when he gets home.” 

“Now, wait just a minute-” 

“Bye Herc,” Raleigh feels a little guilty as he hangs up the phone, but the elder Hansen was obviously working himself up into a tirade and Raleigh can feel his focus and calm starting to wobble, and this is probably the self-care that his therapist is always talking about. 

But he’s not heartless, so as he turns on the kettle for tea, he dials his phone again. 

“Everything alright, love?” Chuck answers immediately, and Raleigh can’t help but smile. Chuck may be a cheeky bastard who lived to stir shit up, but in all the ways that mattered, he was a good man. 

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” Raleigh says, and he’s teasing, but he also means it. “Are you on your way home?” 

“I’m trying, but you would not believe the shit show I am dealing with right now…” 

Raleigh lets the words wash over him as Chuck explains, in detail, how traffic patrol’s incompetence has turned a simple road into the Bermuda fucking Triangle of highways. He hums in agreement, and sympathy, as Chuck goes on to explain how really put out Max has been by the whole ordeal, and smiles when Chuck promises to be home for dinner, or by God, someone would answer to him.  
Raleigh smiles, and closes his eyes, and when Chuck’s voice gets lighter, happier, he knows that he did that, and he feels centered, and calm. And he waits patiently for his cheeky bastard to get home, and make him whole again.


	3. Got my bell rung - Raleigh/Chuck

“Got my bell rung,” Chuck muttered, tone at odds with the gentle grip he had around Raleigh’s waist, supporting him with each halting, slow step. 

“Well, it was true,” Raleigh huffed, boots practically dragging on the floor as they approached the stoop to his bunk. Irritated and sore and eager to be in bed, he lifted one foot on the first step and tried to push himself up, and almost landed on his ass for his trouble. Only Chuck’s firm hold kept him on his feet as he groaned and swayed backward. 

“Easy, easy,” Chuck said gruffly, both hands on Raleigh now, steadying and warm. Raleigh tried to focus on that instead of the way his head swam and his stomach roiled. 

“Fuck,” Raleigh moaned, closing his eyes as he tried to will the room to stop moving. 

“Maybe you should have stayed in medical a little longer,” Chuck said, and Raleigh tamped down the immediate urge to shake his head in denial of that statement. 

“No, ‘m fine, Chuck, just need to lay down.” He took a breath, as deep as he dared, and then another. Chuck waited, almost unnerving in his patience, while Raleigh gathered himself for another attempt at the stairs. 

“Let me take some of your weight, yeah? We’re almost there.” Chuck eased his grip for a moment as a smoothed his hand up and down the length of Raleigh’s spine. 

“Okay, yeah,” Raleigh licked his lips and grabbed onto Chuck’s forearm as he snugged in close again. It should have been embarrassing, how much he struggled to make it up three steps, how he sagged into Chuck’s embrace, sweating and almost out of breath, but the sheer effort of staying on his feet left no room for shame. 

“That’s right,” Chuck murmured, “I got ya.” They crossed the threshold and Raleigh almost sobbed with relief at the sight of his bed, almost within reach now, the blankets and sheets still rumpled from his early morning wake up call. Clearly, he should have ignored the summons from the Jaeger bay and stayed safely in bed. 

Once he was settled on the edge of the bed, Chuck crouched down to start unlacing his boots and even those small tugs were enough to make Raleigh sway. He reached out and braced his palms on Chuck’s shoulders, ignoring the look of obvious concern that Chuck shot him. Those big hands were uncharacteristically tentative, cupping around the back of his heels one by one and slowly tugging the heavy boots free. Once they were set aside, carefully out of the way, Chuck reached for the zipper of Raleigh’s coveralls, but Raleigh batted his hands away. 

“No,” he murmured, “Just wanna sleep.” 

“You’ll be more comfortable if you take them off, love.” Chuck said quietly, but he didn’t try to force the issue, to Raleigh’s great relief. He was no in shape to be wrestling with his stubborn lover at the moment, no matter how well intentioned he was. 

“I know, but, fuck. I gotta lie down.” Raleigh sighed out a breath, and gestured at the mattress. Chuck raised his eyebrows in question, still crouched down at Raleigh’s knees. “You, in,” Raleigh said, not caring one iota about the whine in his voice. 

“Alright, alright,” Chuck huffed, carefully moving around Raleigh to stretch out on the mattress. Once Chuck was settled on his back, Raleigh gingerly lowered himself into an undignified sprawl across that broad chest. Without prompting, Chuck’s arms wrapped around him and one hand reached up to stroke the short hairs just above his nape. Normally Raleigh would have been angling for a full head massage, but with the huge goose egg just behind his ear he settled for the shivery pleasure of those firm touches on his neck. 

“Better now?” Chuck murmured after a few minutes. 

And Raleigh’s head was still swimming, pounding in that disorienting way that made his stomach feel like a tumultuous sea, but with Chuck’s arms around him he felt steady for the first time in hours. 

“Better,” he sighed.


End file.
